


Cold

by To_Each_His_Own



Category: Supernatural
Genre: But he loves his sons, Dysfunctional Family, Ficlet, Gen, John is a Bit Not Good, brief mentions of mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:04:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Each_His_Own/pseuds/To_Each_His_Own
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester would slit the throat of any man who said he didn't love his sons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

John Winchester would slit the throat of any man who said he didn't love his sons. After Mary died, he did _everything_ in his power to keep what little was left of his family together. Where he went, they went. What he saw, _they_  saw. On those rare occasions when he couldn't take his boys he'd drop them off with someone he knew would take care of them,  treat them like his own, especially if something were to happen to John. He loved those boys—but he wasn't perfect. 

It was an accident. John didn't know how it happened—well, that wasn't completely true. He knew _exactly_  how it happened. What he didn't know was how he allowed it to happen. In everything John did he tried to be fair, to treat both of his boys equally. John Winchester didn't play favorites. That wasn't the kind of man he was...except...that was exactly what he did.

Sammy. His little Sammy. He was the son that John had always wanted. At least, he was the kind of son that John had wanted since Mary died. His perfect little soldier. Not Dean, though. No. Never Dean. Of course he tried. He tried so damn hard to be the son John wanted. To make his father love him like he loved Sammy. But he just couldn't do it. Sammy was raised in it.  He was born to be a hunter. He didn't know of life before, back when it was just John, Mary, and Dean. Before the hunting. Before the hate. And no matter how hard he tried, every time he looked at Dean he saw Mary. He saw her in the stubborn pout, in the freckles, in the face that grew more and more... _pretty_  as he got older, and in the blonde hair. But more than anything, he saw her in Dean's eyes. Beautiful,  green, and sparkling. Damn it if that boy didn't have his momma's eyes. And it killed him.

He was one cold son of a bitch.


End file.
